


High Voltage

by firefly124



Series: Destiel Advent Drabbles [28]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Advent Calendar Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-01
Updated: 2014-01-01
Packaged: 2018-01-07 01:07:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1113703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefly124/pseuds/firefly124
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts with a simple evening out to enjoy holiday lighting displays.  When does anything ever stay simple though?</p>
            </blockquote>





	High Voltage

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Advent Drabbles](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/adventdrabbles/) to [this picture-prompt](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/1Alisanne1/media/img752015362_zps37fcb441.jpeg.html). Title from [this AC/DC song](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wzw6j1mAnsQ).

~*~

It had taken some convincing, but Dean had finally agreed to spend an evening simply observing and enjoying the sights in one of the local cities. True, there was little to be seen in Lebanon, and Castiel had to agree that it would be foolhardy to spend that much time out in the open so close to the bunker. Dean seemed to think the angel did not understand the joke underlying his choice of Manhattan, Kansas. Since Dean seemed to find this amusing, Castiel decided not to disabuse him of the notion by pointing out that it would have been more appropriate, in that instance, to travel there on New Year's Eve.

It was better this way, however. The storefronts and many houses were festively decorated with lights and other seasonal accoutrements, but the streets were not overly crowded. 

“I don't get it,” Dean said. “You must've seen way better stuff than this over the years.”

“It's a matter of perspective,” Castiel replied. “Yes, I have seen many, many ways in which humans fight against the long nights of winter. For a long time, I thought of it as my brothers and sisters undoubtedly still do: a primitive response born from fear of the dark.”

“Anybody with half a brain is afraid of the dark,” Dean pointed out. “Lotsa nasty shit hiding in the dark.”

“True. But this—”Castiel waved a hand at a particularly brightly lit window display“–is the transformation of that fear into something beautiful, into art. It is exactly the sort of thing that separates humanity from the rest of creation. That is something impossible to appreciate from afar, when all that can be seen is a cacophony of colored light. But here, at ground level, it is … awe-inspiring.”

Dean looked again at the window Castiel had chosen. He shrugged, clearly not understanding what it was the angel saw in the intricate patterns of light surrounding the miniature village. Perhaps that, too, was a matter of perspective.

“I think you cannot see it because you do not understand how truly amazing you are.”

“How can you say that? Never mind all the crap you've seen on the ground with us, there's all the rest of it.” Dean scowled. “Freakin' humans, man. We do some really horrible shit.”

“And yet you also create beauty to rise above fear or even just for the sheer joy of it.” Castiel looked around at the other buildings nearby and the few people out walking as they were. “If you were not as amazing as you are, you would not be appalled at the behavior of those who instead use their fear to cause pain and suffering.”

Dean now looked profoundly uncomfortable, and Castiel thought he knew why. Even after all this time, there were memories that plagued the man, always judging himself more harshly than anyone else. 

Castiel knew there was no reasoning with him when he began to slide into that pit of recrimination, and so he did not even try. Instead, he grasped Dean's shoulders and pulled him close pressing their mouths together harshly. After a scant half-second of hesitation, Dean responded in kind, parting his lips and demanding entrance to Castiel's mouth, reaching up to frame the angel's face with his hands. That, right there, that refusal to back down even when he knew he was outmatched for physical strength, the insistence on fighting for control, that was the essential spark of _Dean_ that made his soul shine brighter than any light humans had yet invented. Castiel responded by gentling the kiss, letting Dean take the control he so craved, and reveling in the glorious sensations that surrender brought out in him.

The sounds of glass shattering and electrical wires sputtering was distracting, but as there seemed to be no impending danger attached to them, Castiel decided they were not of import. Dean, however, pulled back.

“We should go.” He tugged at Castiel's sleeve and began walking back towards the street where they had left the Impala.

“Why?” Castiel asked before he noticed the source of the noises. The window display they had been admiring was now dark, the lights and windowfront shattered. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. Let's get clear before the God Squad figure out what just happened. Kinda surprised they're not here already.”

“They must be otherwise occupied,” Castiel agreed as they reached the car.

“You gotta be more careful, man,” Dean said, revving the engine and pulling away. There was a smile playing at his lips that belied the harshness of his tone. “We're gonna have to take the scenic route, make sure they're not just following us to the bunker.”

“That seems wise,” Castiel agreed. “Perhaps we should spend a day or two at that cabin.”

Dean appeared to spend several minutes considering that possibility, then nodded. The cabin was, after all, well-warded against angels. In fact, it would take some modifications for Castiel to be able to enter.

“Next stop, Montana,” Dean agreed. “Meanwhile, try not to blow out any streetlights along the way, huh?”

“Of course, Dean.” 

The cabin, Castiel reflected, had minimal electrical service to worry about. Yes, that would be an excellent place to spend the next couple of days.


End file.
